


boxelder

by evilstheater



Category: Gregory Horror Show
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilstheater/pseuds/evilstheater
Summary: the chef keeps a diary, but why?
Relationships: Hell's Chef/Judgement Boy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	boxelder

It’s been six months since I’ve came to the house.

Gregory liked me from the start. Every other guest fought and fought to leave, and they all gave up. Me? I didn’t even pretend to fight. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to cook. I wanted to cook until I died. They took everything from me, and Gregory gave it all back.

Gregory likes me because of that. My love for this new home is massive. I know I’m not a good person.

I don’t mind losing everything. 

* * *

I was thinking about her again.

Does it make me a monster? Does it make me awful? Truth is, I never cared. It was easy, finding someone to date with my status. I didn’t need to care, I just needed her. I needed to pretend that I was normal.

I didn’t want them to find out. I don’t care if they do now.

I wonder if they found my body?

* * *

Every time I think about my restaurant, Judgement Boy comes running through the halls. Gregory hasn’t installed railings on the kitchen, so he can’t come in here. But it’s without fail that I hear his cheery song echo in the lobby. I don’t know why, or if he can read my thoughts, but he sings and he sings until Gregory begs him to stop.

I don’t mind his song too much.

* * *

It’s stuck in my head.

“Do you know who I am? They call me Judgement Boy!”

* * *

I ran into him in the hallways.

He chased me down until I couldn’t run anymore. He proceeded to ask me a scenario about my old life, something I assumed no one would know besides me. Gregory says to not pay him much mind, that he’s just crazy, but I don’t know.

He knows something about me that I don’t think I like.

* * *

I hate storerooms.

* * *

He keeps stopping me in the hallway every time I see him. I don’t know why, but I tense up each time I hear him gliding on the rails. He always asks me questions, he always drops his heart, he always gives me his judgements. I don’t know why. I don’t know what he wants.

The kitchen is the only space I have away from him.

* * *

Gregory installed rails on the kitchen when I was asleep.

He said it was rude to lock Judgement Boy outside of rooms. This was his house too, this is his home, but yet I don’t want him in there. I don’t want anyone in the kitchen. I don’t want anyone to touch my cooking, my food, my ingredients, my everything.

I’ve been paranoid ever since that damn kid messed with my soup.

Knowing him, he’d drop his heart into it when I'm not looking.

I still don’t miss reality.

* * *

I saw TV Fish in the basement today. The fish is a good companion, and one I have found comfort in since moving here. 

It doesn’t run from me, as long as I don’t have my knife. I sat on the cold floors, and watched the little fishy swimming around in the air. It stopped to face me, the colour bars on the tv fading to an actual picture.

Memories, such things I don’t need anymore. It’s always the same shots of my restaurant, my wife, my life. Today, however, it showed a face I was sure I forgotten.

I couldn’t forget about him. Many nights I spent behind my wife’s back, allowing myself to fall into a rendezvous. Such an affair would’ve killed my reputation, but what did a reputation matter to a dead person?

* * *

He reminds me of Judgement Boy.

I asked Gregory about what he knew about Judgement Boy. According to him, he was one of the first people to come to the hotel. He was a lawyer, someone so passionate about his job that he wanted to know what true justice was.

My lover was a lawyer, too.

I went back to working in the kitchen.

* * *

I accidentally cut myself while chopping up lamb. I must’ve made a loud noise, because you-know-who came rushing to the kitchen. This time, he didn’t try to judge me. He didn’t ask about my past, he didn’t attempted to judge me, all he did was ask if I was okay.

He got Gregory’s attention, and he managed to reattach the bit of wax I cut off. 

Does he care about me?

* * *

Wade too deep into love and there’s no end to it.

I remember reading that once. I think I’m playing a dangerous game. I’m on the shore of my feelings, and one wave could drag me into the deep abyss.

I don’t want to feel anything.

* * *

I think I love him.

I don’t want to. I don’t want to feel love again. Last time I loved someone, I had to pretend that I didn’t know them. I had to pretend I was normal.

But now he comes and says hello to me every day, and he tells me about the foods he likes. He talks to me about cooking, and he talks about how hard it is to constantly be judging. I let him try the food I’m making to get an opinion on it. Sometimes, he’s reckless and spins around. I don’t think he can help it, though. 

He told me about in his life in reality, he liked to flap his arms around. Is that why he spins?

It’s stupid. He’s just a scale. He’s not even humanoid. 

Yet he cares for me more than she ever would. 

**Author's Note:**

> my brain is massive and im sexy as hell


End file.
